


consumes the eyes and hearts

by Cloudnine101



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Dating, Dean in Denial, First Kiss, Jealousy, Love Confessions, M/M, Pining, Poor Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-18
Updated: 2015-10-18
Packaged: 2018-04-26 13:23:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5006389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cloudnine101/pseuds/Cloudnine101
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>"We're going to make you dateable," Dean tells him. "Now quit your whining. Do you want this girl or not?"</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	consumes the eyes and hearts

A bit of background: it's mid-October. You've just come back from Florida, and your best friend's picked up a girl, and they're going out together. You've squeezed into your best jeans, and something's twisting in your chest like it's never going to leave hold.

But you suck it up. Because that's what you do.

Castiel's sitting on the bed. He doesn't understand why, either. 

"We're going to make you dateable," Dean tells him. "Now quit your whining. Do you want this girl or not?" 

Castiel makes a small noise. "I don't want to."

Dean rolls his eyes, and tosses a jumper out behind him. There's a thunk as it impacts.

"Put it on," Dean instructs. "And roll the sleeves up. And you don't want those trousers. Seriously. They're ugly. You can borrow some of mine."

Castiel growls, low and deep in the back of his throat. Dean shrugs, and turns around. 

"Go take a wash," Dean says. "Get yourself freshened up. Chicks love that."

Castiel nods, his teeth gritted. He looks faintly lost. 

Dean pauses in the doorway, and then walks outside. He pours himself a beer. 

 

 

Twenty minutes later, and Dean can see the flood from where he's standing. He shoves open the door with one hand, brandishing a tea towel in the other, which he drops, because it's going to do nothing to help.

"Oh, for crying out - " The tiles gleam wetly; the water soaks into the hems of his jeans, and his boots, and his socks. Dean squelches. "Cas, what are you doing?"

"Running a bath," Castiel says, as though it's perfectly obvious. To him, it probably is. "I can't turn the taps."

"Right," Dean says, and barrels past him, and twists them. In the centre of the tub, Castiel folds his arms across his chest. He's standing upright. The water makes his skin glisten. "Next time, wait for me. Okay?"

Castiel stares at him. "I am capable of this, Dean. But I - I must apologise. I did not intend to start a flood." Castiel's brow crinkles. He's frowning. "I am sure Noah did not experience this much discomfort."

Stepping closer, Dean can't stop himself; he runs his eyes up and down Castiel's body. He's still wearing his jeans and his socks, but his shirt's got lost somewhere along the way. He's got runner's legs.

"Take this," Dean says, and tosses him a towel. As Cas wraps it around himself, he shivers. Dean has to fight not to grab another, and create - a nest, really, because that's what Cas has brought him to. Nesting. "What'd you do that for? I thought we had the shower figured out."

"We did," Castiel says, the towel hanging limply from his shoulders. Dean cranes his neck closer. "Sam said that you would appreciate my scent."

Dean cringes. "Err," he coughs. "I think Sam was joking, Cas. You know all that stuff he says? About us being a couple?"

The light of revelation dawns behind Castiel's eyes. "Oh. In that case, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to imply - "

Dean looks away. "No. 'Course not. Come on. Let's get you dry." Dean puts out his hands, ready to help Castiel out. Castiel takes them. His hands are wet, but they're cold. He's shaking, teeth chattering. "You're frozen. We've gotta get you warmed up."

"I'm fine," Castiel murmurs. "I'll cope."

"No, man, you won't, you don't have to - " Dean shakes his head. He tugs Castiel closer; Cas sways, but holds firm. "Don't make me pull you out of here, 'cause I swear to God, I will."

Castiel swallows. He stares at his feet. They're tinged white and blue. Dean can see the veins in them. They stick out against his skin, which is milk pale.

"I know," Castiel says, voice low. The air between them seems to tremble. "I know. Thank you, for this."

"You're good. I mean, this is - this is what family does, right?" Dean strokes his thumbs across the sides of Cas's hands, because comfort-touching is allowed, here. Cas can't read this as what it isn't. "They look out for each other."

Castiel's lips are pinched. "Yes. Family. That is how we function." And he smiles, but it's tight and flat and faked, but he moves closer, and, releasing Dean's hands, steps out of the tub.

"We're gonna have to get new towels," Dean says, to fill up the silence. Castiel's flushed. He's gazing towards the far wall. He doesn't reply.

Sam pokes his head around the door, and turns pale. "What happened?" he says.

Dean hands him a towel. "We're fixing this," he says. 

And they do. Just about. 

 

 

So they drive into town in the evening. Beautiful day. Somewhere around Lawrence. They're cruising through the countryside, hitting a respectable eighty. Cas has his arms folded over his chest. The air's thick and heavy.

The windows are all the way down. Something in Dean's chest is easing.

They pull over. The town's dead-beat - there are chalk-scuffs on the pavement, but Dean can't see any kids around. When they stop to ask a lady, she hurries off, shopping held firmly in her arms.

"This is where she asked me to meet her," Castiel says, as they pass along a seemingly random road. "Stop, please." 

Dean slams on the brakes.

It looks a nice enough place, he guesses. Kind of dive only Cas could pick up a girl in, though. The roof's definitely seen better days.

"This is where you went? After we came home?"

Castiel nods. "I did enjoy Florida," he says. "And I hope you did, too."

"And so you went to a bar, and you got a drink, and you met her." Dean nods. "Was she pretty?"

"Yes. She was. Charming, polite, and beautiful." Cas opens the car door. "Everything I could have wanted."

Dean slaps his shoulder. "Go get her, tiger," he says, and laughs. And Castiel stands up, and squares his shoulders, and walks away from him. "Cas." 

But Cas doesn't turn. Of course not. He doesn't wave. His shoulders are set. Dean's heart is pounding. He's on edge. 

So, Dean leaves.

He goes driving. Baby thrums beneath him; the town whirls by in a glimmer of lights. Dean can't make out the stop signs. He just keeps on going and going, on autopilot, until the entryway is far behind him and the road stretches out in front, all the way to the horizon.

Dean slows, and pulls into the siding. It's quiet, here. There's nothing to distract him. He tries pulling out his phone, but there's no reception - and anyway, there isn't a damn person he could call. Sam'll be sleeping by now. The thought fills Dean with envy.

Sleep's a distraction. Dean tilts his head back, his eyes closing - and there's Cas face, there's his smile, there's the set of his jaw, the hardening of his mouth, his hand on Dean's wrist, his concern.

Needless to say, Dean doesn't sleep. His brain's running in circles. Counting sheep is out of the question. He can't see anything past the sweep of the headlights.

A bit of background: it's mid-October. You've just come back from Florida, and your best friend's picked up a girl, and they're going out together. You've squeezed into your best jeans, and he's walking away from you, and something's twisting in your chest like it's never going to leave hold.

But you suck it up. Because that's what you do. But you do need him. And when he's gone, you're going to regret everything you didn't say, and that's - _that_. 

 

 

Just when Dean's finally falling into a doze, his phone rings. He scrambles to pick it up, and says, "Hello?"

"Dean," Castiel says. "It's me. I need you to come back."

Dean's already pulling out, struggling into his seatbelt as he goes. "Where are you? What's happened? Are you okay?"

"I'm - fine. I just want to go home." There's a crunching sound, and then Castiel says, "You're breaking up, I have to - " And he rings off.

Cursing, Dean chucks his mobile into the back seat, and takes the corner at forty miles per hour over the speed limit.

 

 

When Dean gets back to the bar, Castiel's sitting on the corner. He doesn't have his knees drawn up to his chest yet, but it's a close run thing. He's sodden. There's a puddle all around him, and his hair's stuck to his head.

Dean yanks open the door, and calls his name. Castiel looks up. He smiles, slightly.

"You're soaking," Dean says. "How long have you been out here?"

"It stopped raining," Castiel says. "I'm sorry, but that woman - I couldn't - "

"Hey. Hey. It's fine. It's all good." Putting a hand down, Dean waits for Castiel to grab hold, which he does. Dean pulls him to his feet. His fingers are cold. "Come on. I'm taking you home."

 

 

They drive back in a hush.

 

 

That night, Castiel is uncharacteristically silent. Dean tries to cheer him up - lets him off dish duty, gives him first pick of the TV, sends Sam off to bed early (which he does, grudgingly). Cas smiles - but even when it's just the two of them, he doesn't make a single sound.

They're halfway through Finding Nemo when Dean cracks. "Alright," he says. "What's up with you?"

Castiel shakes his head. "Nothing."

Dean snorts. "You're a bad liar."

Castie flinches. "I have not had much practice. I - the girl. She unsettled me."

Dean pops the cap off his bottle, and takes a swig. The world warms accordingly. "Wasn't your type, huh?"

Castiel sighs. "No. She wasn't."

Outside, rain beats down on the window panes. Dean draws a little nearer. Castiel's mouth closes up again. Dean taps his shoulder. "Hey. Buddy. It's - you're good, right? Here. You don't - I'll start that again. Are you happy with us? With - "

"I am very happy," Castiel says. "I am the happiest I have ever been."

"Try smiling this time," Dean offers, "might make that more convincing."

Castiel glowers. "What do you want me to say, Dean?" Castiel goes to his feet. "Tell me."

Dean thinks his mouth's open. His gut's twisting. "Cas," Dean says.

"You - this may be some kind of a joke to you. But you have offered to care for me. You have taken me in. You held me, and I felt - I don't know, I can't describe it, and when I went to your brother, he only laughed."

"You went to Sam before me?" Dean's standing up, too, because he's angry - he's angry all the way through, and Cas is looking at him, glaring, and it's the most he can do not to punch his smug face. Dean takes a breath. "Fine. You talked to Sam. What'd he tell you?"

"That I was hopeless. That we were both ridiculous. And that if you didn't pull your head out of your butt, he'd lock us in the closet together." Castiel frowns. "I think that's meant to symbolise your inner sexuality struggles, but I can't say for sure."

Dean chokes. He can feel his face reddening. Castiel looks at him.

"I'm not - I ain't - I'm not gay, man."

"I know. You've told me so many times." Castiel shakes his head. "I still don't believe you. I can perceive longing, you know. And you thought that male police officer was very attractive. And the male detective. And the male fireman."

"Alright, alright, you've made your point!" Dean holds up his hands. "Take a breather!"

"I am breathing, Dean. It is required." Castiel shakes his head. His hands are bunched into fists. Dean can't look away from them. "I can't feel what you experience for that girl. She was charming, and funny, and everything you had promised, and every time I saw her face, I could only - " Castiel stops.

"You could only what?"

Castiel's eyes are sad. "I could only think of you," he says. "Do you see, now? I am hopeless."

"God," Dean says. He thinks it's justified. "You - Cas, are you - confessing to me?"

Castiel nods. "I suppose I am. I didn't intend to. You must accept my apology. But you deserve to be happy. And repressing yourself isn't going to help."

Dean stands up, and steps closer; Castiel flinches away, and backs up, almost tripping over his ugly coat as he goes.

"I ain't repressing anything," Dean tells him. His mouth is dry. He can feel his adrenaline rising, and the hairs shooting up on the back of his neck. Reaching up, Dean runs a hand down Castiel's cheek, and leaves it there.

"I hope you're happy, Dean," Cas says. His voice is quiet, but he's meeting Dean's eyes, determined as ever. "It's all I want."

"I wanna be happy, too," Dean says. The words come out garbled. His fingers tighten around Cas's shoulder. "You've gotta believe me."

Castiel smiles. "You deserve to be happy. And to do that, you must find someone who makes you so. Lying to Sam - and to me - will not help matters."

"What if you could make me happy?" Dean says.

Castiel's brown furrows. "That - is not the happiness of which I was speaking. I think we have been talking at cross-purposes."

"No, we ain't. I promise. Just hear me out." Dean takes a breath. Cas's warmth steadies him. "You know that time we went to Florida?"

Cas's gaze turns wistful. "Our holiday," he murmurs, and Dean has to bite back a grin. "You wished for us all to bond."

"Yeah. That. You know when we went out to dinner? Sam was out - I dunno, shopping the books or something. And it was the two of us, there."

"I remember," Castiel says. He looks sad. "What about it?"

"Did it ever strike you - during that evening - that I might've set it up?"

"Set it up?" Castiel frowns. "How so?"

"As in, getting the two of us alone." Castiel doesn't look any more enlightened. Dean sighs. "I told Sam to clear off, Cas. I wanted us to go out together."

"And then you lied about it. Why?" Castiel bites his lip. It flushes. "Were you - ashamed?"

"No! No, I wasn't, no, I just, I just, I wanted to see what it would be like, you know? To be normal. To go out and do - normal things. Human things. That humans do. Together."

"I don't quite see your point."

Dean swallows. "Seriously? We went out for dinner. And then you took me back to the hotel, and we went swimming."

"You splashed me," Castiel says, eyes glazed. "My dress shirt was ruined. I had to wear yours."

"Your - your shirt was fine, man. I messed it up afterwards. On purpose. So that you could - uh - wear mine." Dean scratches the back of his neck. "This getting any clearer yet?"

"Not really." Castiel shrugs. "I understand that familial attachment can be expressed through clothing. Nesting has been common throughout the centuries. There was once a young - " 

"Yeah, but I'm not talking about familial attachment, I'm talking about..." Dean takes a breath. Castiel looks up at him, breath puffing hot against his chin. "More than that. Do you see what I'm saying?"

"You said that family was the most important thing in the world."

"And it is. I mean, hell, without Sammy, I'd have been in the grave a long time ago. But sometimes - don't you want more? More than - being brothers?"

Castiel stares at him warily. He steps away. Dean's hand falls to his side. "If this is some kind of apology, Dean, I have no need of it. There is nothing to forgive."

"I ain't apologising, I'm telling you that I love you, you stupid assbutt!" Dean buries his head in his hands. "And that wasn't the way I pictured that going. At all." 

Castiel just stares. "You love me?" he says. "As more than a brother?" 

"You can say boyfriend, y'know." Dean scratches his neck. "If you want."

"I do." Castiel stares at him. "Of course I do." 

Dean exhales. "Well. That was easy." For a couple of seconds, they stand in silence. Dean's grinning like a fool. "So, what do we do now? Tell Sam?"

Castiel moves back in again, head cocked to one side. "I can think of other things," he says. The words seem to echo in Dean's brain. Castiel smiles crookedly, and hooks his fingers in the lapels of Dean's jacket. "If you want."

"I do," Dean says, "yeah, yeah, sure, if you - "

Castiel presses a finger against his lips, and then they're kissing. Cas tastes of toothpaste and saltwater. Dean grabs hold of the back of his shirt. Castiel's hands lock onto his shoulders, digging in tight.

By the time they break apart, Dean's breathless. "Want," he finishes.

"I'm not going to say it again," Castiel murmurs, and then they're kissing, and Dean's tingling from head to foot, and smiling and smiling and smiling. 

 

 

The door opens. Sam steps inside.

He drops every single book he's holding.


End file.
